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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26208376">The Price To Pay</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarconPedale/pseuds/GarconPedale'>GarconPedale</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RuPaul's Drag Race RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Craquaria - Freeform, Drunkenness, Gio's pov, M/M, Power Dynamics, Smut, max's pov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:20:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,215</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26208376</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarconPedale/pseuds/GarconPedale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gio loves to watch Cracker perform... He just doesn't want her to knows that. Things are complicated enough as they are.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aquaria/Miz Cracker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Some Kind of Big Reveal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Find this old fic I wrote two years ago, though it was entertaining enough to zhuzh it up a bit.<br/>also comments keep me alive</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her show started like this : “You know there’s this jewish quote I really like : a jew with nothing to complain about is an unhappy jew... Well girl I guess today I’m very very very happy !”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Gio is standing at the counter, behind the crowd, where the lighting is off and you can’t see shit. It’s the price to pay to be sure she can’t see him. It's like those scientists that go study animals in the wild. He wants to see her in her natural habitat. See her perform to the best of her abilities, like she would any other nights, that is to say a night without him. It’s not that she wouldn't come out on stage if she knew he was in the club. More so just that with their history, he doesn't wanna distract her in any way. He doesn't want to see her get nervous, or uneasy because of him. He wants to see her shine.<br/>
She’s wearing a tweed chanel-like suit, a pink lip and a brown wig that’s probably twice her weight. She looks like a disgustingly suburban hot mom, in the best way possible.<br/>
He loves her shows, with that kind of belly-twist excitement you only get when you’re a kid, or a really heavy fan. He was a really heavy fan, and yet nobody knew. Especially not Cracker.<br/>
He heard that expression to talk about certain dancers before, that they “burn on stage”, and that's exactly how he would characterise Miz Cracker performing, she would light up the stage and catch your attention like no other, and any girl passing after her would be a dimmed light in comparison… But maybe he was just fan-boying a little bit.<br/>
Its not the first time he came incognito either, those last months, he started making a habit of coming to see her perform by himself, just for the sole pleasure of watching her go, stand-up, shablam, lip sync, all that jazz. It had actually become one of the only places he could actually relax, the life of touring and the constant performing really took a tool on his psyche, way more than he would have expected. Being able to just sit in the dark and appreciate someone else giving their all on stage was one of the last bastions keeping him sane, for some reason.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
After Cracker was done, Gio watched two more numbers from girls he recognised from instagram, before suddenly seeing Dusty and Cracker emerge from the crowd to the counter. Before he knows what to do, Dusty locks eyes with his and comes to greet him. Cracker doesn’t seem surprised or bothered to find him here, or at least has the civility to not show it.<br/>
She briefly pressed her small body against his. He forgot how petite she was.<br/>
“Did you just arrive ?<br/>
-Yeah, just now”<br/>
Dusty keeps up the conversation going, clearly hevely hebrieted, while Cracker’s eyes linger on the two empty glasses on the counter next to Gio.<br/>
“That’s a lot of white wine for ‘just now’” she mutters, loud enough for Gio to hear.<br/>
Some queens that just performed quickly join them at the bar, Dusty orders a few drinks, and soon enough, the white noise of house music and homosexual chatter envelop and gently rock Gio, who’s now on his fourth glass of whine.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>From the side, he observes Cracker, mostly to see if she looks back at him. She doesn’t. (why does that somehow annoys him?). Holding a glass of water (Gio heard of her trying to stop drinking but he never thought she’d actually do it), she seems really focused on the group discussion, nodding along, opening her mouth from time to time to crack a joke. Every time she does so, the group bursts into laughter. She really was on a roll tonight, every one of her read was spot on, concise and efficient.<br/>
“Girl did you see when she performed last week ? Category is John Huston got hip replacement surgery…”<br/>
How does she do it, he thinks, it looks so effortless for her, to just come up on the spot with something clever and witty. Every time Aquaria makes people laugh, it's unwillingly, practically by accident. Every time her joke lands, she is almost surprised, incapable of understanding why this one is a success when so many others don’t work. It’s a science she just can’t grasp onto, a talent that she could only admire from an outside perspective. And watching Cracker do it, whether it be on a scene or at the club’s counter, was always a show.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>They didn’t have much of a relationship before the season, not much during it, not much after. Maybe it really was that beef in the first episode that scared them off, but those ten minutes of air time really where the beginning and end of their arc together on the season.<br/>
What Aquaria remembered the most was how discreet Cracker was on the show. She always changed in her station, behind a windscreen, no exception. Gio don’t think he saw an inch of leg skin, no underwear, no tuck, she would get in her station in boy clothes and come out padded, you’d never catch her shirtless in the workroom, showing her ass or swinging her dick around alaska style. Nothing of the sort.</p><p>And yet, Gio keeps thinking of that one time he turned around, looking on a table for his lashes, and saw Max seamlessly disrobe through the screen’s slit. He only could guess the silhouette he was spying on, but kept looking anyway. He knew he was looking at something he wasn’t supposed to. Obviously, if Cracker was so discreet, she didn’t want the attention, so why did he hold his gaze between the slit ? He could discern parts of her shoulders, the back of her neck, a bit of her thigh. She could only guess the calm and application with wich Crackerwould carrefully undo his belt, fold his tee-shirt, take off his pants… before Cracker's face was suddenly visible through the vent. She abruptly looked up, and locked eyes with Aquaria’s. She froze but stood the queen’s gaze.<br/>
In a workroom full of half naked queens screaming and quaqueling, this exchange of glance felt like a sacrilège, an incredibly indecent and outrageous invasion of privacy.<br/>
A moment passed until she looked back at the table where she dropped her lashes, took them back to the mirror and put them on. When she was done, Cracker was out of her station, padded, teasing her wig.</p><p>The only discussion they’ll have about it was that afternoon before going to the main stage. While waiting next to the set, Aquaria tapped Cracker’s shoulder, but before she could say anything, Cracker ranted :“Girl, you were looking for some kind of big reveal or something ? Like plot twist I have three navels ?”<br/>
Again, not being very quick to respond, Aquaria struggled to find anything to say. So she said nothing at all, and the situation was done and dealt with.<br/>
Now that the season’s over, the image of a changing Cracker still lives rent free in his mind, why that is, he still doesn”t know.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Gio drank and drank some more. The club was getting less and less populated and the song choices more and more questionable. The evening started well when he was alone watching her, but having to pass the rest of the night surrounded with people he had no interest in made him sulky. He learned his lesson, next time he’ll leave right after Cracker’s done.<br/>
<br/>
He orders his eighth (or was it his seventh ?) glass when he realised Dusty and most of the girls that were chatting about were gone, only a few people are still at the counter, including Cracker, checking her phone. Not really knowing what his plan is here, he touches the velvet texture of the suit’s sleeve she's still wearing, looking with attention at the detail of the inner lining (was that hand sewn ?). The effects of the alcohol were starting to hit him hard, and he frown as he felt a nauseous feel expand from his throat to his stomach. Cracker had tucked away her phone and turned to her fellow queen.<br/>
She stares him down, from his frown brows to his pouty lips :<br/>
“Alright James Dean, maybe you need to get in your Uber now, don’t you think ?<br/>
-Haw you think I look like him ?" ask Gio, not nearly understanding Cracker’s suggestion.<br/>
"-Not really a compliment when you know how he ended…” Cracker warns.<br/>
"-Huuum he died ?<br/>
-No, he got sent to a farm, with great new owners, and horses, and rabbits that he could chase.<br/>
-...<br/>
-Yeah, dummy, of course he died tragically !<br/>
-Ah…”<br/>
She sights, leaning on the back of her chair. Why is she still here ? She’s obviously not enjoying his company. Everybody else is gone, she could leave at any moment, why does she feel the need to stick around ? She stares him up and down, her gaze stops on his hands, his slender, delicate hands wrapped up around his who-knows-how-much glass. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>Her female illusion stood untouch for most of the night, but now that enough time has passed, her make-up is coming apart, and the Max underneath is slowly emerging. Cracker’s never in a hurry to get out of drag : at the club, after a show where she probably got sweat all over her pads, when the bar is closing and she got alcohol spilled on her bra, in the early morning when the cold night wind blows in the streets of New York, and her tights are not near enough to keep her warm, waiting for the next train to take her back to Harlem. By any way possible, like her old tights, he would stretch, extend and prolong the time she could possibly spend in drag in one night.<br/>
<br/>
Her wig was still blended, her lashes still on, but her overall face was starting to read boy mode, when she frown and commented, her eyes still fixed on Gio’s hands :<br/>
“Why do you never come talk to me when you come to my show ?<br/>
-What ?” If Gio wasn’t already feeling nauseous, he would be about to throw up. Max’s eyes go up Giovanni’s arm, linger on his neck and jawline before meeting his glance. Her frown was replaced by a soft grin.<br/>
“I know you come pretty much every time I do a solo act.. I mean if you can endure my show, I would think you could endure a drink with me afterward.”<br/>
Her tone isn’t pointed as much as it is hurt, and that’s somehow way, way worst.<br/>
“Or, I mean, if you’re tired I get it, but you could at least let me know that you’re coming” her voice seem to sadden with every word, even her laugh as she continues, seem drenched in sorrow, “like… is it that you don’t wanna talk to me or ?”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Gio’s mind racing at the speed of light, trying to find in his vocabulary the best way to explain the situation, reassuring her that it has nothing to do with snobing her, on the contrary…<br/>
Instead of that, he mumbles an incoherent “I- I didn’t know- I didn’t know that you knew” His eyes stuck to the floor like a kid facing his parents about porn they find on his computer “I didn’t wanna- If I knew you knew I would have…” His train of thought is dazed and muddy, his words dying out before they even parted his lips. He would have been short breathed even if he was sober, but the alcohol really doesn't help. When his bottom lip starts trembling, he feels Max’s hand on his shoulder. She pleaded :<br/>
“Jesus girl, it really is time for your uber”<br/>
Gio keeps himself from being even more of a walking mess, nodding when Cracker ask him if he wants to share her ride. He doesn’t even know why he’s so emotional all of a sudden.<br/>
“It’s stupid, I’m stupid,<br/>
-Hey, don’t sweat it, ok ? ” Cracker chuckled “You just have a very… let’s say Late in career Edith Piaf type of drunk, that’s all…”</p><p>She laughs at her own joke, then helps Aquaria get up, and out of the club. The uber isn't there yet, but the cold blast of wind works like a bucket of iced water on Aquaria. She can feel herself sobering up by the minute. Craquer takes the opportunity to light herself a cigarette.<br/>
"You still smoke ?<br/>
-I know..." she wailes "You can get the girl out of Seatles, but you can't take the suicidal tendency out of the girl..."<br/>
Gio understood that joke, that must mean he's at least a little sobered up. A black car pulls off to the side of the road, Gio opening the backseat car door, already freezing to death, turns to Cracker. He realizes she is still in full drag, wig, suit and heels. Right there and then, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, one hand in her pocket, the other on her cigarette, she looks close to perfect. Actually, she did, she looks perfect. Then she takes one puff and proposes :<br/>
"You know what, take the uber, I think i need to walk a little."<br/>
Gio is nowhere near sober enough to object, he mouths a silent ok as he let himself drop onto the back seat.<br/>
<br/>
Before the car pull off, he rolls his window, and from his buzzed mind, he achieve to say :<br/>
"You were so good tonight. I love your outfit and I know you did it yourself and it's flawless. Really. I loved the moment when you lipsynched to Mommie Dearest. It was so good. I don't even remember what anybody else did because yours was so good"<br/>
After blurting all of this, he immediately falls into his seat, as the car starts to pull away. He has just the time to look at Miz Cracker, a gentle grin on her face, mouthing the word Thanks as she takes another puff of her cigarette.<br/>
Then his eyelids fall onto him like blocks of concrete, and he feels the evening, the night, the club, Miz Cracker, the regrets and her cigarettes, all of it mashing up, turning into itself and blend into this moment he'll barely remember.<br/>
The cab dissapear into the early morning, leaving Cracker alone with the feeling of having made the right call... as well as fucking up in the worst way possible.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Just Like Everybody Else</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short chapter with Max's pov. Huuu I guess tell me what u think ? Good or bad, comments are always a big push on my ego. I didn't really think of doing a follow-up but i might keep going, we'll see ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time he saw Aquaria at his show he thought it was a mistake. He had to do a double take, peeking behind the curtain after handing his usb stick to the DJ, fully ready to let Miz Cracker take over and burn the stage to the ground. That enthusiasm came to a full stop when he spotted from across the room Giovanni’s slender silhouette.</p><p>It couldn't possibly be. Why would Aquaria of all people come to his show, in a bar he never saw her hang out before ? And yet, it really was her, sitting alone with a glass of rosé (sic) in one hand and her phone in the other. His mind quickly rationalized it : she must be meeting one of her friends there. That’s it, it's just a total coincidence, it just so happened that this was the same night Maxwell was performing, nothing more. He tried his best not to let it get to him and let Miz Cracker embrace the scene</p><p>During her number she made a point of never looking in Aquaria’s direction. Saving both of them the agony of an awkward eye to eye. In the back of her mind, she was so grateful to have chosen her Whip It Mix for this night, it was one of her best and she interpreted it beautifully.<br/>
When the number was over, she left the stage for the next girl, but couldn't help and took a last look at the back of the room. Aquaria was nowhere to be found. Probably found her friend during the number and got the hell out before they could run into each other, good call.<br/>
Thank god that’s over, she thought as she loosened her corset.<br/>
Until it happened again, the week after.</p><p>Truth is, it wasn't until the fourth show that Max started coming to term with the fact that maybe, indeed, Aquaria was coming to see HIM. Before that, the only thought seemed so ludacris he wouldn't even allow himself to think it. They weren’t friends (that was an understatement), she never showed any enthuthiasm for her drag, so why would she come so regularly ? He couldn't make sense of it, yet there was no other explanation. Lightning doesn’t strike five times at the same spot (is that the quote ?). And that bitch was showing up every. single. time. Like opportunistic pride advertising in june, girl, she was HERE. Funny enough Max never discussed it with anyone, not Bob, not Money, not Katelyn. This thing, this weird thing happening, was definitely too intimate to share with any one. This was between him and Aquaria.</p><p>At the last few shows he actually started finding himself not being anxious, but looking forward to seeing Aquaria’s face in the back of the club. There was something amusing in knowing her presence there, something comforting as well as exciting, that pushed him to perform to his best every time. (For what ? Impress Gio ? Of all people ? why on earth would he want that ?)<br/>
But there was also an extreme bitterness to catch her silhouette at the corner every time he came into the bar, and finding her gone by the time he’d got out of the stage. He blamed himself for even having the hope she would, maybe just this one, stay after the show to congratulate him.</p><p>
  <em> No, she was just like everybody else. Everybody came for Cracker, who stayed for Maxwell ? </em>
</p><p>Not once did she ever come talk to him after a performance.<br/>
In the back of his mind, Maxwell has this masochist idea that Aquaria comes to see him when she feels down about her drag, maybe feeling like her performances aren’t up to the part or her outfits are too simple, or feeling like her make-up is kinda busted.. Then she comes to see Miz Cracker and thinks “Ho, well at least I’m not THAT bad…”. Somehow, in Cracker’s twisted mind, that seemd like the only full-formed, logical, bullet proof explanation.</p><p> </p><p>She watches the cab turn right on St Nicholas Avenue, before taking one last puff on her strained cigarette.<br/>
When the ashes touch the floor, Max sights. I need a dick, dammit.<br/>
That whole night made him painfully horny. Fucking Dusty. Why did she had to go talk to Gio. Having to stay civil to Aquaria, that obviously did NOT want to be in Max’s company, getting shitfaced all by herself, not addressing one word to him… Before whining like a little brat when confronted. Gosh, she can be so unlikable sometimes. And yet there was something oddly endearing about her, her innocence, her credulousness, that made Max still brace himself, hold her up and call a cab. Containing himself like that made him oddly craved for physical contact. All that frustration bottled up had to be exteriorised, one way or another…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fuck walking home<em>, he runs back into the bar, hoping that guy that touched his leg several times at the counter is still there. He is. </em></em>
</p><p> </p><p>Maybe he’s the type of gay that get a hard one from fucking a guy in drag, honestly, max didn’t care. He locked eyes with him and he could see, although it wasn’t obvious at first, the heat of desire behind the haze of alcohol and whatever else the guy had taken. He sits beside him, knees touching, and they share an understanding look, the type that means “just making sure we’re on the same page here…” They are.</p><p> </p><p>Here we go, perfect. Someone that doesn’t know his name, that wouldn't recognize his face tomorrow, someone that wouldn't glance at him in the street, that wouldn't give him the time of day if he wasn’t horny or if there were more options around. Someone that didn’t care for him in any way. Just what he deserves.</p><p> </p><p>He let the man pay him one last drink. He let him ask him half-assed questions that were only here to be sure he’ll get what he’s looking for. He let the man’s hand settle on his knee, then his thigh, then the insight of his groin. When they get to the guy’s apartment, -a saddening little flat displaying an unfitting combination of La-Z-Boy Furniture and bohemian pieces found in flea markets, Max thinks of asking for a name. But what would be the point ? He won’t remember it even if he tattooed it on his arm.<br/>
When he silently unbuckles the nameless man’s pants, at the edge of a questionable leather couch, he finds himself wondering what Gio was wearing tonight. A tank top and some kind of leather pants ? Something expensive. Every pants looks tailored on Aquaria anyway. He let the jeans and underwear drop to the floor before laying the stranger on his back, one hand conscientiously rubbing the man’s already hard penis.</p><p> </p><p><em> Maybe not a tank top<em><br/>
</em></em><br/>
He lets the man’s cold hands guide him hastly to his pelvis, and takes him full into his mouth. He gags a little when he feels it hit the back of his throat.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ha yes, he had one of those see-through shirts, in fishnet. A black one </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He blows him with the application only insecure people can really master, people desperate to impress in any way possible. Brushing his shaft softly with the tip of his tongue before stroking him with his full mouth. He closes his eyes, working meticulously, his movements slow but thorough, taking him as deep as he can, letting his cock hit farther and farther at the back of his throat.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And he had some brown leather pants that fitted his hips like it was custom fit. Here we go. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The man lets out a moan and Max understands he’s gonna come (Already ? Jeez), he takes his dick in his hand and methodically rubs the tip with his thumb. The stranger comes undone under him, whining softly as his insides shiver. Maxwell watched this whole body tremble before slowly relaxing, he's not here anymore, lost in his thoughts, contemplating a greater matter.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Was it a sleeveless fishnet shirt ? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>On the couch, only lit by the passing cars and the first rays of sunshine, beside the deeply asleep hungover man holding him in his arms, Maxwell looks at his hands. His tiny little man hands as Bob puts it.<br/>
Gio’s hands are slender and delicate, like they’ve been drawn by an artist. His fingers are long and graceful. When he holds his glass, his wrist breaks in an elegant flow. He wears nailpolish in boy mode, he doesn’t bite his nails, they’re beautiful.<br/>
In boy mode, he wears leather pants and fishnet shirts.</p><p> </p><p>Max does none of that. How could he ? You don’t try to fly when you’re a toad. You don't go for a solo career when you're Michelle. There’s just some things he can’t do.<br/>
He already had this discussion with Bob, talking about wearing heels out of drag. Maxwell confessed that he’d feel too embarrassed to ever do it. That amused Bob so much he started ranting “What the fuck are you talking about ? Like what, you’re scared of being ridiculous ? When you go out every Saturday in THIS make-up ?” In the moment, Maxwell laughed but made sure to never bring up the subject again. Bob couldn't get it. But Max knew there was a difference. Miz Cracker and him were two completely opposite people and he wanted- he needed to keep it that way. Cracker is a fantasy, she can wear nails, and heels and beautiful clothes that drive attention, she can be loud and take risks, she was handmade to do so.</p><p> </p><p>Max isn’t a fantasy, he’s the lightning technician backstage that nobody wants to see because it would kill the illusion. it's unfair, but c’est comme ça, c’est la vie… He’d accepted it a long time ago, and there is no need now for him to put salt in the wound.</p><p> </p><p>In a couple of hours, he’ll come back to his apartment, take off his clothe, take a shower, charge his phone, make coffee, chat with Katelyn, talk to her about the club, or rather, tell her a story in the most entertaining way, he’ll lie about a few thing, be honest as much as he can, see what makes Katelyn laugh the most, take notes, think about incorporating the best into a set. He’ll find a way to turn this awful evening in a fun party anecdote, sum it all up into one simple punchline. Find the order into this mess necessary to turn it into stand up material.</p><p> </p><p>But for now, he hears the man he just made cum snore into his ear while he thinks of the way Aquaria’s hand brushed his when he helped her out of the bar.</p><p> </p>
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